My Journey with Mom...

My plan was to wait on writing about my Mom. Wait till after I had written down a few of the growing experiences God had graciously used to prepare me for her death. Those moments however, are not what is burning in my thoughts.

First off let me just say that this, or any of my writings that involve others, will NOT be an inspection of their defaults. My Mom and I did not always agree, sometimes in a very passionate way. That was always about opinion, never about love. As a parent myself, I know how hard it is to be "perfect". We do the best we can and sometimes we make mistakes. That doesn't mean we don't love and want what is best for our children.

Exodus 20:12 states that we are to honor our father and our mother...

So how do I write about my mom and the disease that took her, without dishonoring her? Well that's just it, my mom had a disease. She didn't wake up one morning and decide that liver cirrhosis was how she preferred to go, it just crept up. The changes were so gradual we adjusted to them, accepted them as normal. But slowly, Mom was being taken from us.

She was a beautiful woman with a beautiful voice. A hard worker. Fantastic cook. Gracious hostess. Compassionate nurse. Very intelligent, she continued her education till her retirement. I have so many good memories of the two of us going out together without the boys. Having some girl time. Singing with the car radio, pumping gas, going shopping, playing in the backyard together, playing cards. Slowly though, over a time of some 30 years, she began to change.

During the last few weeks of her life, I got to spend many hours with her. Our roles had reversed somewhat. She was trusting me to help her make decisions, yet she was still my mom and deserved all the honor and respect that comes with that..."honor your father and your mother".

Once in the hospital, her health deteriorated rapidly. Her body was failing and there was nothing they could do to stop it. She was very afraid and confused. Being with her was the most painful thing I have ever experienced, watching what she was going through. Unable to do anything to bring her comfort. But I had to be there, she trusted me and needed me. It broke my heart.

Then Wednesday came.

Wednesday morning she rallied. Greeted us as we walked in the room. She was sitting up tasting everything she had on her food tray. I had not seen her even remotely interested in food in a long time. As we visited, she became interested in a show on the television, on fashion. She even shushed us so she could hear about the dress...and the shoes! She loved those shoes!

There it was! The blessing in the midst of such sadness! There was my Mom! The one I remembered from my childhood and our 'girl time'. The woman before the disease. Dad and I were so happy to see the change, not realizing at the time how short lived it would be. Both our hearts were lightened. It truly was a blessing, one worth all the pain surrounding it.

I believe God gives us these moments. These little lights in dark tunnels to let us know He is there and that He cares about every detail in our lives. As if He is saying "I am here", "be at peace, I got this".

Mom passed a week later on Thursday, while I held her hand. I had let her go, told her she had been strong long enough and it was time to rest. She stopped breathing 30 minutes later.
As humans, we want to hold on to what we know. We think this life and body are all there is.
We can not see beyond earth, so we hold on to it.

Faith is believing in what you cannot see. My Mom's death has strengthened my faith. It has not left me questioning God. It has not caused me to doubt Him. I saw God moving throughout my last weeks with her, because I looked for Him. I know He will continue to comfort me when I get sad over her death.
I will always have Wednesday.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah 29:11